The Florence Nightingale Effect
by LittleMissGeek8
Summary: It's been a few weeks since the murders at Camp Forest Green, and Deborah's relationship with Tommy Jarvis is still the early, awkward stages of dating. But there's a bug going around the town of Forest Green, and sometimes a cold is just what it takes to level the playing field. Takes place after Legacy of Camp Blood. Very fluffy and perhaps a touch silly. [Tommy J./Deborah K.]
1. Chapter 1

**The Florence Nightingale Effect**

 **Chapter One**

"He's not here today, if that's what you're looking for."

Deborah Kim turned her attention from the interior of the gas station to the young lady working the pump. "Not here? Why not?" It wasn't like Tommy to miss work, at least not in the few weeks she'd known him. That's why she made a habit of stopping by after her own work was done, because she'd at least get a chance to say hi on a semi-regular basis.

The young lady- Julie, going by the name on her uniform- shrugged. "I dunno, he's just out today. I think someone said he called in sick?" She twirled a piece of dyed blonde hair around her finger. "Probably got Frank's cold, he was out the other day too."

Deborah drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. "We were supposed to go out tonight," she said softly. So much for those plans.

"And he didn't call you?" Julie sounded skeptical as she hung the nozzle back up on the pump.

"I've been working," Deborah explained, pulling her purse onto her lap and taking out her wallet. "Maybe I'll stop by his house instead and see how he's doing."

"Good luck. I don't know how you stand it- I mean, sure he's cute, but it's gotta be like dating a tall, blond tombstone, right?" Deborah shook her head as she counted out the money on her lap. It would take far too long to put her feelings into words, or even explain how she'd met Tommy. Even if they'd only been together a few weeks, Deborah knew there was a much sweeter person behind the quiet, distant exterior Tommy projected. She paid for the gas with a polite smile before starting her car and driving off in the direction of the grocery store. There were a few things she needed to pick up before she could pay him a visit.

* * *

The road up to the Jarvis house was long and dusty. Deborah had only driven up it herself once or twice; most of the times she'd visited Tommy had been driving. It was a lovely drive, at least, even if she'd gotten a little lost at one point. The woods didn't look nearly so threatening in the daytime, with the sun filtering down through the green leaves, bathing the world in warm summer sunlight. Finally the cabin rolled into view and she parked in front, marveling again at how pretty the house was. It would have been an expensive cabin for sure if it had been up to Tommy to buy it, but from what she'd picked up from him and the short time she'd spent with his sister, it was the house he'd grown up in.

Deborah fished a few plastic bags out of the passenger seat, then walked up the steps to the front porch. Her hands were clammy as she stepped up to the front door. Hesitantly she knocked, the sound echoing around her on the porch. A few minutes passed with no response. Deborah peered inside the house through the large glass window in the door. The downstairs was dark, and she couldn't see any movement inside. Again she knocked, harder this time, and waited for a response.

Nothing.

For a moment she debated just going home. Tommy might not even be home, after all… but his truck was in the driveway, taunting her as she turned to leave. Besides, she'd even made a trip to the store for this, she'd come too far to chicken out. Tommy's sister Trish had mentioned a second key hidden nearby, so Deborah glanced around the porch for likely spots. There was a welcome mat right under her feet which could easily hide a key. As she bent down to look, she braced her hand on the doorknob which promptly turned under her weight, sending the door swinging inwards.

She nearly lost her balance, but righted herself before she ended up splayed out on the floor. Figures he forgot to lock up again, she muttered to herself. That was a habit he desperately needed to break, even if few people came up to the woods she couldn't trust that they wouldn't come across problems. Or bears.

The downstairs was as abandoned and dim as she'd thought from outside, but when she looked up the stairs she could see a light in the hallway above. Cautiously she walked up the steep wooden stairs, sticking close to the side next to the walls. There wasn't any railing on the other side and the last thing she needed was tripping off the side of a flight of stairs today. The stairs opened onto a short hallway on the second floor, with several doors opening onto it, but the lights were off in the hallway too. However, on the side of the hallway opposite where the stairs came up, there was an open door spilling light into the dim room, and Deborah could hear the faint bloopy sounds of computerized music.

She'd never been in Tommy's room before, but she supposed that must be it. The clamminess had returned to her hands as she softly walked over to his door- what if he was upset that she'd come over? Was she somehow invading his privacy this way? But at the same time a knot of worry had settled into her stomach that if he was sick enough to not go to work, he must be _really_ bad. The thought of stepping into his room without permission was terrifying, honestly, so instead she reached her hand in and knocked lightly on his open door.

Almost immediately there was a loud cry and a great deal of thrashing about, followed by the music abruptly cutting out. "W-who…?" Tommy's voice called hoarsely, before dissolving into harsh sounding coughs. Throwing caution to the wind, Deborah poked her head in, clutching the plastic bags she was carrying to her chest.

"I'm sorry, the front door was open. They said you didn't come into work today and I was worried…" Tommy seemed to be half-off his bed in the far corner of the room, the blankets tangled up around his legs. His face was flushed from coughing, and his hair was mussed where it wasn't plastered to the sweat on his forehead. Finally he stopped coughing and stared at her with tired, unfocused eyes from behind a pair of glasses she'd never seen him wear before. For a moment it looked like he was going to speak, but instead he gestured her over before sinking back against a mountain of pillows on his bed.

His room was cluttered, with a few tables by the door and a shelf by the wall, half full of books with dusty figurines crowded to one side. Several latex masks were hung on hooks on the wall, or tossed on the corner of one of the tables. Across from his bed he had a small television set up, with a slightly battered looking NES next to it, one of the controllers resting on the bed near him. An empty glass sat on the little side table beside him. Deborah pulled over a chair and sat down nearby. "I figured it had to be bad if you didn't come into work. Are you doing okay?"

Tommy shrugged. "Haven't thrown up in about three hours, so better than I was." His voice was already soft naturally, but now there was a rattle to it that set Deborah's teeth on edge. He reached for the glass beside him, but pulled his hand back with a frown when he noticed it was empty.

"Do you need more water? I can get you some," Deborah offered. "Have you taken any medicine? How's your temperature?"

"I can get water," Tommy insisted, but Deborah shook her head.

"You almost fell out of bed a minute ago, Tommy. You're staying put." She picked up the glass and walked to the door.

"Bathroom's across the hall, the tap water's fine," Tommy's voice called as she left. She smiled, opening the door to the bathroom and filling the glass with water from the sink. Then, she opened up the medicine cabinet and poked around until she found a thermometer and a bottle of acetaminophen. The glass of water she handed to Tommy when she got back to his room, before sitting down and taking out a small box from one of the plastic bags at her feet. Inside were several sets of plastic surgical gloves, one of which she put on then she switched on the thermometer.

"When you're done I want to take your temperature," she said holding it out to him. Tommy frowned, clearly reluctant, but he put the glass back on the table and popped the end of the thermometer into his mouth. When it beeped, he handed it back to her. 99.8, the digital face read. Deborah switched it off. "High, but not dire, I think you'll live." Tommy gave her a small, tight smile. "How do you feel otherwise?"

It took a while for him to respond; when she'd put on the gloves she'd seen something flicker in his eyes. _Probably too much like his time in the asylum_ , she thought. Finally he spoke. "Well, I ache all over and my nose keeps running but it's too stuffy to breathe through. I haven't taken any medicine since… nine am?"

"Any nausea?" He shrugged, then gave a small nod. Deborah poured a dose of acetaminophen into her hand and handed it and the glass to him. "That's for the aches and fever, and I brought some Vicks VapoRub in case you were congested. I'll need to spread it on your chest… I-if you don't mind, that is." A bright red flush crossed her cheeks. Internally she chided herself for being so foolish- it was a purely medical procedure, but it was just so embarrassing nonetheless.

Tommy took the medicine, then looked at her with one raised eyebrow. "Um, okay?" He was only wearing a button-down shirt over his boxers, and she noticed now it wasn't even buttoned as he pulled it open. A strong smell of eucalyptus spread through the room as she opened the little blue jar and scooped out some of the ointment with her fingers. She leaned forward to spread it on his chest, but her hand stopped before it reached him.

There was a white, slightly jagged scar slicing its way across his chest, right up his breastbone towards his neck. The nervousness in her heart turned to worry at the sight- that was an injury that was intended to kill. Tommy glanced at her, then down at his chest. "Oh," was all he said.

"It looks like it hurt," said Deborah softly, as she began spreading the ointment across his chest.

"It did." He'd clammed up again, his pale blueish-gray eyes growing cold. It was clearly something from his past he didn't want to remember, and it wasn't something Deborah wanted to push on. The curiosity gnawed at the back of her mind, but it was Tommy's story and he'd tell it when he was ready to. She finished with the ointment and closed the little jar, the silence hanging between them like a fog.

Finally she forced herself to speak. "Have you eaten? I brought soup? It's just canned but it won't take long to heat up, and I- I brought stuff to make ginger tea to help settle your stomach…" The tension in Tommy's shoulders melted away and he smiled faintly at her.

"That sounds good, thanks." Deborah clasped her hands together in her lap, rocking back and forth a little. A big smile crossed her face in response.

"I-I'll go get that ready then! I'm sure I can figure out your stove!" She stood up quickly, almost knocking the chair over, and gathered up the bags to carry downstairs. The sounds of 8-bit music echoed down the hallway as she left the room.

"Be careful it's hot. Um, both of them are hot," Deborah said, indicating the bowl of chicken noodle soup she'd placed next to him and the mug of ginger tea she'd made. "I wasn't sure how you'd like the tea prepared so I only put in one spoonful of sugar, but I can add more if you need it." Tommy put down the controller to take the bowl, blowing on the spoon to cool it off. He sipped at it and winced.

"Yeah, it's hot." He put the bowl back on the table to cool for a bit. Deborah sat down next to him with a bowl of her own. For a moment the heavy silence came back while they waited, before Tommy sighed. "I got that scar a few years ago, when I was over at Pinehurst." He shifted slightly, staring off into the distance. "There was an… incident. And, as a result, a local paramedic started killing people he thought was responsible, but making it look like Jason had come back. We fought-" Tommy rubbed the side of his hand along the scar on his chest, "-and I got a machete to the chest in the process." He glanced over at Deborah who was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I lived and he didn't. But it was a hard part in my life and I don't like reliving it much."

Deborah bit her lip. "I-I'm sorry, you didn't have to tell me."

"It's okay," Tommy said softly. "It hurt less to talk about it than I thought it would. And I wanted you to know. I've only ever told Trish about it before now." A smile crossed his lips, a more genuinely peaceful one than she'd seen the whole time she'd known him.

Deborah smiled back at him. "Well, thanks for trusting me with that, then! It… it means a lot." She played with the spoon in her hand, meeting his eyes for just a moment or two before lowering them again. "So... um… what were you playing?"

Tommy looked at her, raising one eyebrow. "Um, Super Mario Bros. Look… I'm sorry about our date tonight, Deb. I didn't mean to-"

"-No, this is fine, really! I like helping, and I'd feel really bad if you had to be stuck home alone all night when you're sick like this!" She rocked back and forth in her seat a little as she spoke. "So… do you want a player two? You can laugh at how many times I die?"

Tommy chuckled, before coughing a few times again. As he caught his breath, he pointed over to the NES on the table. "The soup needs to cool off anyway, second controller's over there. Reset the cartridge while you're up, please?" Deborah grinned and stood up to grab the second controller and reset the game. As she sat down, Tommy reached out to take her hand, meeting her eyes for a moment. "Deborah? Thanks," he said softly.

She squeezed his hand a little in return. "Anytime, Tommy. Now, I'm gonna kick your butt at Mario!"

Tommy pulled his hand back and picked up his controller. "Have you ever played before?"

"How hard can it be?" Deborah asked with a grin. And as soon as her turn came around, she ran directly into the first Goomba and died immediately, while Tommy laughed himself into another coughing fit next to her. Unphased at her digital demise, Deborah glanced over at Tommy with a smile. She hadn't known him very long, in all honestly, but this was the first time she'd heard him laugh that hard since she'd met him. It wasn't exactly the date she'd been expecting that day, but it was the best one she'd ever had.

* * *

[Author's note] This chapter was originally posted on my Tumblr on August 20th, 2017


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It should not have been a surprise to anyone that, a few days after playing nursemaid to a sick Tommy, Deborah herself began to feel ill. It started small, just a few sniffles she blamed on allergies and continued on her way to work. Then came the sneezing and coughing, until finally one morning she woke up aching and shivering despite the July heat. Her throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper, her head pounded when she moved, and it was all she could do to just turn her head to one side and fumble for her alarm.

"You look like death," was all AJ said when she poked her head into the living room, to see if Deborah was getting up. From her spot on the folded-out futon, Deborah groaned. From the door, AJ took note of her pale face and bleary eyes and frowned. "You're not going into work like that."

The moan that escaped Deborah's lips might have been an attempt at AJ's name or just a reflection of life in general at the moment, but it certainly didn't sound like any actual words. She reached up towards her roommate, but she could neither reach nor properly see AJ, and her hand fell limply back onto the futon. AJ sighed. "I'll be here until I have to go to work, and I'll call the library to let them know you're not coming in. Okay?" Deborah nodded, settling back in under the blankets.

With another large sigh, AJ flopped onto one of the soft armchairs in the room. "I told you that Jarvis guy was trouble."

* * *

Tourist season was the worst. That's what Tommy's coworkers had told him since he first started working at the small gas station and garage in Forest Green. By now, he believed it wholeheartedly. It was one of his quieter days, he was allowed to stock shelves and run inventory and not have to worry about working the pumps and being social. Now, however, his shift was almost over and he was busying himself by putting things back on the right shelves from where tourists had put them. A number of not-at-all nice things passed through his mind, aimed directly at the person who thought it was too hard to put things _one shelf up_ from where they'd left them.

As Tommy reached up to replace a bag of potato chips on the shelf, a chilly tingle shot down his spine. It felt like someone was watching him. Not just watching, _staring_. Instinctively his pulse rose, his breaths becoming shorter and faster. He spun around, hands balling into fists, ready to defend himself… but it was just a young woman, standing there behind him and staring so hard it was like daggers in his skin. Tommy squirmed under the intensity of her gaze.

"Can I help you?" The words were hard to get out, sounding even quieter than he usually did.

"Deborah's not coming by to see you today."

 _What_? Tommy had the strange sensation he'd walked into the middle of a conversation. His eyes darted from side to side, trying to figure out what she had meant. "I'm sorry?" Again he looked at her, and a faint moment of recognition came over him. The young woman was curvy, with purple streaks dyed into her wavy brown hair and her dark clothes matching her somber expression. And Tommy had definitely seen her before. "Wait, you're Deborah's roommate, right? Uh, CJ… DJ…"

"AJ." The reply was firm and he nodded instinctively.

"Right, AJ. And what's this about Deborah? She's where?"

AJ shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest. "Home. She was sleeping, the last time I saw her. A parting gift from her trip to play Florence Nightingale the other day."

 _Oh_. A flicker of guilt flared up in Tommy's chest. He hadn't asked her to come visit, and it wasn't his fault she'd caught his illness, but still he felt just the tiniest bit guilty. She'd come all that way and made his day better- and then came down with the same bug that had been plaguing him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"-I know, I was just letting you know. I've gotta get to work before I'm late." AJ turned to leave but paused at the end of the aisle, resting one hand on the shelf nearby as she turned to look back at Tommy. "We're also fresh out of ginger ale." The look she gave him couldn't have been more pointed if it was made out of a bucketful of icepicks. Then she rounded the corner and was gone.

All the tension that had been building in his body released as AJ left the store. Other people were a minefield as it was, but short and unassuming as she was, AJ was intimidating somehow. It was like talking to a porcupine, knowing that at any time those sharp quills would stop being simply menacing and suddenly end up buried in your skin. Tommy almost leaned against the shelf in relief, until something caught his eye at the end of the aisle. It didn't look like something that was supposed to be in the snacks section, and when he went to investigate he was certain of it.

It was a pair of keys, sitting right where AJ's hand had rested a minute before. Not car keys, that was certain; most likely house keys. With a slight sigh, Tommy slid them into the pocket of his pants and glanced up at the clock. His shift was over in an hour, but any plans he'd had for the rest of the day were effectively scrapped.

* * *

It was rare for Deborah to get colds. She ate all her vegetables, was careful about washing her hands, she even took vitamins on a regular basis. More often than not it was _other_ people who got colds around her, so she was used to taking care of them. Being on the other side of the coin for once was not only unusual, it was _humiliating_.

Everything ached, a deep throbbing pain that sapped all her strength and made her dread the times she had to stand to hobble to the bathroom. Whenever she pulled the covers up, she sweltered under the heat of her own body, but kicking them off left her shivering. She tried to focus on the TV that AJ had left on, but her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and the plots of the daytime soaps were even more incomprehensible than usual. And in between it all she slept, drifting into fevered dreams of running and hiding and _Tommy_ and then melting back into reality.

One dream was particularly vivid and it took her a moment to realize the Tommy standing over her was actually the _real_ one, and not swooping in on a daring mission to rescue her from certain death. With a startled gasp, Deborah yanked the covers up to her chin, staring up at the strangely blurry face over her head.

"Your roommate left these with me," Tommy said, holding out something above her head, before setting it down on the coffee table. The metallic clink told her it must have been keys, but all she saw was a faintly grey smudge. He glanced over in the direction of the TV, which had just come back from a commercial apparently. "You watch this stuff?" Despite his efforts, a note of disdain snuck into the statement. Deborah shook her head a little, not having the energy for much else.

"AJ left it on so I wouldn't be lonely." Tommy looked back at her, then stepped over to the TV and switched the dial off. The faint voices cut out abruptly, leaving the room in silence. "Why're you here?" Deborah asked finally, her throat rasping with each word.

"I was told you caught my cold," Tommy said simply. "And your roommate was very persuasive." He sat down on the -thankfully very sturdy- coffee table nearby. "I figured if I didn't stop by she'd slash my tires. How are you doing?"

"Not bad," Deborah said, trying to force a smile. It was a baldfaced lie and they both knew it. She hadn't felt this awful in several years. Tommy leaned over, placing his hand against her forehead.

"You're really hot," he said after a few moments.

Something came over Deborah all of a sudden. Her brain was as foggy as her vision right now and somehow or other the inhibitions that normally kept her from saying anything that popped into head simply stopped working. "Thanks, you too Tommy!" she replied with a giggle. The blur that was Tommy seemed to frown.

"...No, you have a fever, Deborah."

"Oh, is that all?" She forced a laugh. "I thought it was something awful!" Her rough attempts at laughter quickly shifted into sobs, and she rolled onto her side, burying her face in the mound of pillows and yanking the blanket up over her face. A few moments later she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder.

"Deb? Are you okay?" There was clearly worry in Tommy's voice, and she rolled back over, raising her tear streaked face up to peer in his direction. Her chest tightened at the thought of worrying him more; he'd already come to visit her when he didn't have to, and now she was making him worry about her.

"I'm a _mess_ ," she moaned, tears welling in her eyes again. "I don't want you to look at me like this. My hair's not brushed, I don't have any makeup on…" A level of horror rose in her chest as she realized what she was wearing. "I'm still in my _nightgown_!" Deborah had always been fond of her nightgown, with the lace around the neck and sleeves, but the material was ever-so-slightly sheer. Wearing it around Tommy, well… a hot flush not at all from her cold rose to her cheeks. She yanked the blankets up over her nose and mumbled, "I can't even find my glasses."

"Well, I was a mess too, if you remember" Tommy said softly. A few moments later, a blurry hand appeared in front of her face, holding a pair of black-rimmed glasses by the earpiece. "They were under the coffee table." Deborah dried her face on the blanket and put the glasses on. The world felt a little less scary when she could actually see what was in front of her.

"You can't ever look anything less than amazing, Tommy," she found herself saying, even though in her right mind she'd _never_ be able to say something so bold. "I just look like…" Clumsily she gestured at herself.

"You look like yourself," Tommy said, catching her hand. "And you're a lot prettier than you think."

Deborah scoffed, but didn't pull her hand away. "You need glasses," she mumbled.

"So do you."

She moaned and halfheartedly tried to pull her hand away. "No logic today, Tommy, I can't think." Tommy let go of her hand, then reached out to tidy up her bangs across her forehead.

"It's okay, you're sick. You're allowed to feel down." A small smile crossed his face. "Have you even eaten today?"

Deborah shrugged. She too had noticed the reversal of the situation that had happened just a short time ago, and she tried to smile back but her face wouldn't cooperate. "I don't remember, I don't even know what time it is." She sighed, nestling into the mound of pillows. "I think there's a can of chicken noodle soup in the kitchen that I didn't use the other day. Don't burn down the apartment, AJ would kill me."

"It's nice to know you have so much faith in me," Tommy teased, standing up. No witty retort came from Deborah, though. She'd fallen back asleep on the couch.

* * *

"Okay, sleepyhead, you need to eat or you're going to feel worse." Tommy's soft voice pulled her out of sleep, along with the feeling of his fingers lightly tapping her shoulder. Deborah shifted a bit, opening her eyes to look up at him.

"'Didn't mean to fall asleep," she mumbled, trying to pull herself up into a vaguely sitting position. Ever since the first time she'd heard him speak, there was something about Tommy's soft, earnest voice that she could listen to forever. "Guess I just like hearing your voice," she said aloud. Tommy cleared his throat next to her with an embarrassed look on his face, before leaning in to place his hands on her arms and help her sit up.

Tommy left to grab a chair from the kitchen table to sit on as Deborah turned to look at the coffee table beside her. There was a bowl of soup, probably more full than she could handle at this point but it seemed like he hadn't scorched it. A spoon rested on a napkin nearby, with an opened package of saltine crackers above it. Beside the bowl was a glass of bubbly, pale gold soda. " _Ginger ale_?" Deborah asked, definitely more amazed than she'd be normally.

"AJ mentioned you were out," Tommy said, sitting down on the chair he'd brought over. "I figured I couldn't exactly say 'no' about it."

"AJ's kind of intense," said Deborah, struggling to take a few crackers out of the plastic sleeve while her soup cooled. "But I think she's okay with you."

"It felt more like she was daring me to mess up." He reached forward to help, pulling apart the seam on the plastic sleeve so it was easier to reach the crackers inside.

Not eating all day had drained most of Deborah's strength, and it was surprisingly hard just to get up the energy to chew, but she realized all of a sudden just how _hungry_ she was. "If she really didn't like you, you'd know," Deborah said around a mouthful of cracker. "She's really just shy. I thought she hated me the whole time we were setting up for camp, but she was the one who offered me a place to stay after…" Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes to her soup.

"Yeah," Tommy said quietly.

"But she came and _told_ you I was sick. She even gave you a key. I'd say she actually trusts you, even if she does keep telling me you're 'trouble.'"

Tommy laughed just the tiniest bit. "Trouble? I'm not _trouble_."

"You are _absolutely_ trouble." Deborah smiled impishly at him as she took a sip of soup. "But you're _nice_ trouble. You didn't even go home to change out of your work clothes."

"I don't mind, I didn't want you left here all by yourself. And don't tell me you would have been okay. You weren't when I got here." Deborah stuck out her tongue at him, then giggled.

"Touche, Tommy." He smiled back at her, then leaned in close. A small squeak left Deborah's lips as he impulsively pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Your forehead's all sweaty," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Duh, I'm sick, remember?" Deborah teased, tossing a small fragment of cracker at him that had fallen on the couch. Tommy ducked away from it with a grin.

"I can stick around until AJ gets back, okay? I don't want you left here alone." For a moment, Deborah felt embarrassed to hear that. She'd never really had someone tell her they _wanted_ to stick around for her sake, but it was a wonderful feeling too. Having Tommy around would definitely make the day less lonely.

* * *

The sound of the door opening made Tommy jump; Deborah had fallen asleep a while ago and he'd picked a book off a nearby shelf to keep him company. Evidently he'd dozed off as well, for the sun was low in the sky outside. He set the book down and stood up, coming face-to-face with AJ as he turned.

"She's just sleeping," he said, keeping his voice low. "I warmed up some soup for her earlier too."

"She actually ate?" AJ whispered back. Tommy nodded. "Good." Silence fell between them, draped over the scene like a heavy blanket. Finally Tommy sighed.

"I should be getting home, can you let her know I said goodbye?" He would have preferred to say it himself, but the night was coming fast and he still hadn't been home. Driving along the road up to his cabin was still a bit unnerving at night too, even moreso after his last encounter with Jason.

AJ nodded. Tommy turned to leave, stopping by the door to take his jacket off a nearby hook, when AJ cleared her throat loudly. He glanced back over his shoulder. AJ had turned around, and she stood there, silhouetted against the light from the living room. "Thanks," she said finally. "I guess you're not as much trouble as I thought, Tommy Jarvis."

If Deborah was correct, that was surprisingly high praise from AJ. Tommy smiled and nodded slightly in recognition, before slipping out the door and heading off into the night.

* * *

[Author's Note] This chapter was originally posted on my tumblr on August 13th, 2017.


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